I am a boomer. And, as a boomer, I often feel the press of the crowd. We live in your standard city neighborhood with relatively small lots, and sections of our subdivision are still under construction. Since we live in what was once a remote area, we still have some critters who hold tightly to their native turf. I get out and watch these nocturnal feeders, and sometimes I see them when I take my daily walk. As more houses pop up on the grounds they occupy, I wonder how they can continue to exist. However, they are seemingly undeterred. I can relate to their angst while keeping up the appearance of being undisturbed. I don't like vacations or entertainment venues where all the available space is occupied by those of my species. I do occasionally go and suffer for others around me who might enjoy the adventure. I wrote this poem to illuminate the plight of those tenacious Jack rabbits.Jackrabbit Blues
With houses hogging every lot
the habitat is shrinking fast
for hounded hares of Harlingen
who cling to every clump of grass.
They‘re long and lean
with ears to match
and walk with rocking gait.
Rumps up, heads low.
In howling wind they hunker down
on sparsely covered bits of ground
and run with blinding speed when danger’s near.
Then disappear in broad daylight.
And when I think we’ve seen the last
I scan the vacant lots’ tall grass
and there they sit this tiny band
of hounded hares from Harlingen.
